


Mercury in Retrograde

by indiefic



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, MCU/Jupiter Ascending mashup, crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 07:00:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11053752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/pseuds/indiefic
Summary: Sometimes, to move forward, you have to seem like you’re taking a step back.Total AU MCU/Jupiter Ascending crackfic.  Set firmly in the Jupiter Ascending universe, with cameos from MCU characters.





	Mercury in Retrograde

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know much about the Jupiter Ascending universe. I have borrowed liberally from the genius that is [splash_the_cat's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/splash_the_cat/pseuds/splash_the_cat) Jupiter ascending fic.
> 
> part of #steggyweek2k17 on Tumblr
> 
> { Steggy Positivity Week - Day 05: Tropes, Kinks, or Cliches } (crackfic is totally a trope)

**Section: 1**

**BEFORE**

**The Compound of Karesh Voorhees**

 

“So you have something,” he says.  It’s not precisely a question.

 Karesh Voorhees wipes her hands on the worn towel and looks at him.  “My lord, with all due respect, I’m not sure you understand what I do here.”

 “You’re a splicer, a breeder, yes?” he says, his enunciation razor sharp.  “You have the normal assortment of genomgineered splices.  Lycantants, leptailurants, the like?”

 She purses her lips together, looking at him.  He’s a royal, of frustratingly vague provenance.  And by far, the most prestigious - and annoying - visitor she’s had in quite a while.  Typically royals send an envoy to negotiate with her in their stead.

 She takes a breath.  “Majesty, with all due respect, I’m not a vat packer.  I specialize in cultivated strains - hearty, obedient, aggressive.  If you want something for a refined, domestic setting, I can recommend quality splicers.  Marcellan Cahun runs a first rate shop.”

 He frowns at her.  “Ms. Voorhees,” he says, “I’m not looking for an aesthetically appealing companion.  I am Harrison Carter, consort of Amanda Abrasax.”  

 He waits for her to look suitably impressed.  Luckily, she doesn’t have to pretend.  An Abrasax - or the consort of one.  She is in rarefied company today.  She bows.  “My lord.”

 He acknowledges the respect she has paid him with the slightest inclination of his head.  His eyes are hard, flinty.  “Amanda is expecting our child.  A daughter.  She will arrive three months from now.”  

 The birth of a new royal, especially in the House of Abrasax, is an occurrence of great import.

“My felicitations,” Karesh says.

 “I am well acquainted with the reputation of House Abrasax amongst the ‘verse’s rabble,” he continues tautly.  “I know many, who are not Entitled, believe us vain, vapid creatures.  But I also know we are feared, and with good reason.”  He takes a deep breath.  “I assure you, Ms. Voorhees, I understand how ruthless these times are.  Even with RegeneX, my days are numbered.”  He pauses and his eyes light up.  “But my daughter, she could rule for millennia, carry my line into the future.   _She_ is why I’m here.”

 Karesh allows the implications of his words to wash over her.  “Then I take it you know that my primary client is the Legion.”

 “Yes,” he says, “and I also know that when you’re not supplying them with their most fearsome and competent soldiers, you also provide more ... _customized_ merchandise to private interests.  Bluntly put, Ms. Voorhees, you craft some of the most dangerous predators in the ‘verse.  Predators who excel at hiding in plain sight.”

 She looks him up and down.  “You want an Imprint.”

 He nods.  “I require a vicious, cunning creature, who, from birth, has only one priority.  My daughter’s safety.  I need an Imprint who can integrate seamlessly into her life.  A metaphorical wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

 “You don’t want a wolf,” she says, offhand.  “They’re pack animals.”

 He smiles.  “I defer to your expertise.”

 Karesh considers.  “Imprints are rare.  Any bespoke splicer who tells you different, is lying.  Mine, in particular, are temperamental.  They can’t be vat grown like standard splices.  They require live gestations from biological mothers.  These are true Imprints, at a genetic level.  I’m not dabbling in brain chemistry to try and simulate imprinting.  This is the real thing.  But the inclusion of avian DNA makes them fragile.”  

 He looks interested and motions for her to continue.

 She decides to lay all her cards on the table.  She knows he isn’t worried about “the rabble”.  He’s worried about threats that other members of House Abrasax might pose to his daughter.  “The base I use has to be hearty,” she explains.  “It would be easiest to use lycantant.  That’s what many of my competitors do.  Lycantant genome is mapped forwards and backwards.  Using that base would increase the odds of a successful gestation.  They can look nearly indistinguishable from true humans, if that’s what is desired.”  

 She narrows her eyes, giving him a tight smile.  “But Imprints are valued for very specific reasons.  And like I said, you don’t want pack animal mentality.  You don’t want a splice who plays well with others.  In terms of temperament, solitary hunters are the way to go.  It would be easy to use raptants, but they won’t give you the size you want.  Saurosaurs get plenty big, but they smell.  Neither of them would ever pass for human.”  

 “So what’s a bespoke splicer to do?” Harrison says, smiling.

 “I use tigtant,” she says, “for size and demeanor.  They’re rare, with delicate gestations.  But when they make it to adulthood ...”  She shakes her head.  “They can easily pass for human.  And their imprints are indelible.  You can’t burn them out of them.  You get it wrong, and you have to put them down.  If you’re able.  They have a true human’s level of free will, outside of the imprint.”

 “Excellent,” Harrison says.

 Karesh shakes her head.  “I can’t grow them to order.  They come when they come, and I have a waiting list that would span the system.”

 “Do you have one now?” he asks, in a way that tells her he already knows the answer.  

 She purses her lips together, watching him.

 “The Abrasax are the most powerful family in the ‘verse,” he says.  “I can make it worth your while.”

 She takes a deep breath, crossing her arms over her chest.  “I have a female who’s carrying twins, a female and a male.  The female is taken.  She’s earmarked for the Zanzish sovereign.  I can’t alter that agreement, even for an Abrasax.”

 “But the male,” he says, arching an eyebrow.

 Karesh shrugs.  “He’s smaller, according to the scans,” she says.  “I don’t even know that he’ll make it through the birth.  Males are always more frail, so I never earmark them until they’re actually whelped.  I’ve mentioned him to several of my other clients.  Of course, they would all prefer a female, but as I stated, my Imprints are rare.”

 “So we can work something out,” he says, smiling.  It’s not a question.

 Karesh nods.  “Yes, My Lord.  We can work something out.”

 

 

*******

**FOUR MONTHS LATER**

**The Alcazar of Amanda Abrasax**

*******

 

“Is it ...” Harrison Carter lets the question dangle into the silence, his nose wrinkling.

 “Yes, My Lord,” Jessa replies.  “Yes.”  She smiles brightly, carefully taking the small bundle from its mother’s arms.  He starts to squirm and cry, mewling plaintively.

 Harrison’s eyes go wide as Jessa pulls back the blanket, showing him the Imprint.  It's so tiny, smaller even than Margaret, and only minutes old.  His face is covered with synth-caul, to block his vision, as well as his sense of smell and hearing.  It’s all to ensure he imprints successfully with his intended target.  Harrison has been informed it could take hours, during which time his exposure to any other living creature must be severely limited.  Harrison hopes this works.  This tiny mewling creature cost him a bloody fortune.  It’s a hell of a gamble.

 Jessa reads the concern in Harrison’s features.  “He will grow,” she assures him.

 “Indeed,” he says tightly.

 Jessa walks past him, into the nursery propper.  

 The splicer, Vorhees, moved her gestating female into the Abrasax household prior to the whelping.  In order to facilitate the imprinting process.  The female has been ensconced in a room next to the nursery for several days.  Harrison hopes that the death of her female kit won’t deter her from nurturing the male.  He clearly needs all the help he can get.

 In the nursery, the crib is grand, as befitting an Abrasax.  Baby Margaret is unhappy, crying, fighting to get her little hands free of the swaddling blanket.  But she is strong.  Harrison feels a warm rush of pride as he looks at her.  His little girl will be a force to be reckoned with.

 He watches as Jessa lays the unhappy Imprint down on his side next to baby Margaret.  Carefully, she removes the caul and steps back.

 For several minutes they wail and mewl in concert.  But eventually they quiet.  Harrison looks in the crib to see they have squirmed closer to one another.  The kit’s eyes are open and he is blinking his wide blue eyes at Margaret, who seems far more interested in her own hand, which is now free of the blanket.

 Harrison nods.  He hopes the Imprint will do its job.  Only time will tell.

 

 

* * *

 

**Section II:**

**PRESENT DAY**

**Abrasax controlled RegeneX farm planet (locally known as Earth)**

 

Peggy hands Steve the inhaler and steps back, watching.  He takes a deep draft, holding it in his lungs until she’s afraid he’s going to pass out.  He exhales in a rush, coughing a horrible, dry, raspy cough that makes his body shudder.  She’s glad he’s sitting down.  His color looks awful.

 When he finally catches his breath, he smiles at her.  “I’ll be okay.  I’ve lived through two dozen assassination attempts on your life, as well as the time you decided to take up competitive baking.  A little cough isn’t going to take me out.”

 She crosses her arms over her chest.  “You're getting worse.  Hopelessly antiquated medications can’t fix this.”

 He purses his lips together and studies her face.  “Have you spoken to Cahun?”

 She can feel her features harden.  “No, I haven’t.  And I’m not going to.  I don’t need a splice.”

 He looks frustrated, but not surprised.  “You need protection.  You’re an Abrasax, regardless of whether you’re in the good graces of the family.”  His expression hardens.  “You should meet with Zance.”

 “I have even less use for a husband than I do for a splice,” she says tartly.

 “Majesty,” he says, his voice low and serious, “Zance can provide you with resources, protection.”

 “You don’t want me now that I don’t have my inheritance?” she goads.

 Steve's head snaps back like he’s been hit.  “You know I would never leave your service, no matter your inheritance.”

 She sighs and steps closer to him.  He watches her warily.  She invades his personal space, forcing him to sit back and crane his head up to look at her.  She knees his legs apart and stands between them, looking down at him.  He holds her gaze for a heartbeat, then another.

 With a sigh, he turns his head and looks away.

 “Why do you deny us both?” she asks, her voice a bare whisper.

 She can see the muscles in his jaw standing out.  “You know why.”  He looks up at her, his expression defiant, but sad.

 She reaches out and touches his face.  Her hand cups his cheek and then moves, to sift through his hair.  She can see the strain on his features.  He doesn’t want to want this.  But he leans into her touch, ever so slightly.  “I miss you,” she says, willing her voice not to crack.

 He looks up at her, but says nothing.

 She frowns, blinking back tears.  “Do you think I want you any less now?  Just because you’re sick?”

 He shakes his head and gently pushes her back, rising to his feet.  She watches him cross the room to the kitchen.  He takes out a glass and fills it with water.  “We can’t do this, Peggy.”

 “Twenty thousand years of history would indicate otherwise,” she says, frustrated.  “Steve, this is - “

 “ _I_ can’t do this,” he snaps.  She can read the anguish in his features.  He gives his head a sharp shake.  “I will protect you, as long as there is life in this body.  But that means doing what’s best for you, regardless of what we may want.”

 “Now _you_ sound like an Abrasax,” she says bitterly.  “Is there no room in the ‘verse for the needs of the heart?”

 He shakes his head.  “Not if it imperils your life.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Section III:**

**TWO MONTHS LATER**

**Earth**

 

 

“Oh good,” the woman, Jupiter, says sourly, “more family.  That always goes so well.”  The resemblance to Seraphi is unmistakeable.  A true recurrence.  Though, clearly, she lacks Seraphi’s deportment.  Jupiter seems to wear her heart on her sleeve, something aunt Seraphi would have abhorred.

The lycantant skyjacker, Caine Wise, nudges Jupiter, frowning, daring to chide.  The recurrence and her pet know that they are far from Orus, from the Commonwealth.  It has made them bold, free to buck convention.  Peggy wonders if either of them realize how dangerous that is.

“Majesty,” Wise says, voice pitched low, warning.  “May I present Margaret Abrasax.  Your niece.”

Jupiter frowns.  “Niece?”

Wise nods, leaning closer to Jupiter.  “She is the only child of your sister, Amanda.”  

Jupiter looks at him and then frowns again.  She turns her attention back to Peggy.  “I don’t have a sister.”

“Seraphi’s sister,” Wise qualifies patiently.  He glances up, making eye contact with Peggy.  “I believe that Margaret Abrasax prefers to be addressed as Peggy.”

Jupiter looks at Peggy, blinking, frowning.  She rakes her gaze up and down.  “Peggy’s an odd name for an Abrasax, isn’t it?”

Peggy crosses her arms over her chest.  “No more so than Jupiter.”  

Steve leans in, growling in warning, which she can feel, rather than hear.  Peggy watches Wise’s ears twitch, his hand tighten on Jupiter’s arm.  He’s small, for a lycantant, and half albino on top of that.  He clearly wasn’t designed to pass for human.  Rumor is he went rogue after Titus sprang him from prison.  Lone wolf, metaphorically and literally.  Or at least he was.  Peggy suspects he’s found a new pack.

Peggy cuts to the chase.  It’s clear she isn’t going to be able to charm Seraphi’s recurrence, not that she was particularly interested in that line of inquiry.  “I need your help,” she says bluntly.  “As the Abrasax sovereign, I need you to settle a dispute.”

“I’m not the Abrasax sovereign,” Jupiter says hotly.  “I’m not even an Abrasax.  I’m a Jones.”

“You are the Abrasax sovereign,” Wise says tightly to the girl, forcing a smile.

Jupiter glares at him.  She turns her gaze, looking at Peggy.  “If you want me to marry you, you’re out of luck.  I’m taken.”  Her smile is mirthless, but she threads her fingers through Wise’s.  

Peggy wonders if Wise has a tail that’s wagging somewhere.

Giving Jupiter a tight smile, Peggy says, “I’m not Titus.  I don’t want your empire.  I simply want what is mine.  I was denied my inheritance when my mother died.  Balem stole it, and I want it back.”

“What is it?” Jupiter asks, her expression surly.  “Did he con you out of a star system full of farm planets?  Controlling interest in Abrasax Industries?”

Peggy takes a deep breath, reminding herself that Jupiter is a child.  A naive child, with the power to shift the fate of the Commonwealth if she so chooses.  She doesn’t have Seraphi’s cunning.  Not yet.  But one day, she will.  Best to have this sorted quickly.  “There is a vault, at the Bank of Orus.  The contents are mine.  I want them.“  

Jupiter arches an eyebrow.  “And what are the contents, exactly?”

“That’s my concern.”

Jupiter gives her a tight smile, looking surprisingly like Seraphi.  “We’ll check it out.  If it turns out it’s what you say it is, you can have it.”

Peggy bows her head.

 

***

 

“I’m not going to calm down, Caine,” Jupiter snaps.  “My long lost niece shows up with her lackey, demanding contents of an Abrasax vault.  For all I know she’s trying to take ownership of more planets so she can harvest them for RegeneX.  I can’t allow that to happen.”

 “Majesty,” he says calmly, reaching out and grasping her hand as she passes him.  He pulls her close, wrapping his arms around her.  

 She takes a deep breath and releases it, sinking into his embrace.  “I hate this.”

 “I know,” he says.  She can hear the smile in his voice.  “Trust me, we will find out what is in the vault, and then you can decide what should be done with it.  You are the sovereign.  It’s your decision.”

 That does a bit to calm the panic that seems to rest right beneath her ribs.  “I hate it when my space family drops in.  It’s never a good scene.”

 She can feel him chuckle.  “No, it’s not.”

 “What are we going to do?” she asks, pulling back far enough to look in his eyes.

 He watches her for a moment and then says, “I’ll contact Stinger, have him look into it.”

 She nods.

 

***

 

Peggy stares up at the cracked ceiling in the dismal little room.  A single room, in something called a motel.  Quite the fall from grace for someone who grew up in some of the most opulent palaces in the 'verse.  They’ve been on this forsaken farm planet for months.  She hates it.

 She feels the mattress depress under Steve's weight, as he takes a seat on the end of the bed.  “You shouldn’t antagonize her,” he warns.

 Peggy’s eyes snap open and she glares at him.  “Are you really going to talk to me about Jupiter Jones right now?”

 He sighs heavily.

 With a growl, she pushes herself out of bed and stalks several steps to the window.  It's filthy, and overlooks the sad little parking lot.  Everything about this planet is so backwards.  Nothing is familiar.  

Steve coughs, and Peggy turns to look at him.  His thin frame is wracked with the force of the coughs.  Peggy screws her eyes closed and looks away, out the window.  He's going to die - and soon.  He needs a recode.  And she can't arrange that until she has the blueprints locked away in her mother's vault.  Fuck Balem.  As much as Peggy does not care for Jupiter, she's desperately glad that the girl had the sense to kill Balem.

 

***

 

“So what’s in the accounts?” Caine asks, looking at Stinger.

Stinger purses his lips together.

Caine moves close to Stinger, looking over his shoulder at the datapad.  It's an inventory of the vault with the Bank of Orus that once belonged to Amanda Abrasax.  Caine's eyebrows lift and he and Stinger exchange a surprised look.

 

***

 

 “So, _Steve_ ,” Jupiter says, looking at Peggy.  “That’s an odd name.  For a splice, isn’t it?”

 “I suppose so,” Peggy says carefully.

 “How’d he get it?”

 “His mother,” Peggy replies.

 Jupiter blinks at her and for once it’s not one of her sassy expressions.  It’s shock.  “Mother?”

 “Indeed,” Peggy replies.  “The dam who birthed him.  I assume you’re familiar with the concept.”

 Jupiter ignores the dig, her brow furrowing.  “So he wasn’t ... grown?  I thought splices were grown.”

 “Many are,” Peggy says.  “Especially with the volume breeders.  But Steve isn’t a regular splice.  He’s an Imprint.  He was carried to term by his mother and raised by her through his childhood.”  Peggy doesn’t mention just how much of her own rearing was also done by Sarah.  

 “It wasn’t the plan,” Peggy continues, hoping that being forthcoming might soften Jupiter to her cause.  “His dam would have gone with Steve’s twin, a female.  But the twin died.  So the dam came with Steve.”  She looks away from Jupiter’s curious gaze.  “It was quite beneficial.  Steve was sickly as a child.  Without Sarah there, he most likely wouldn’t have made it to maturity.”

 Jupiter shakes her head, her gaze narrowing.  “I don’t even know where to start,” she says.  “What’s an Imprint?”

 Peggy gives her a tight smile.  “I’ve watched you and the skyjacker enough to know that you understand the loyalty that a splice is capable of.”  She sighs.  “Caine is a lycantant.  A pack animal.  He isn’t defined by that attribute, but it is undeniably part of his makeup.  It appears that he has chosen you as his packmate.  And you understand, at least on some level, what that means.”

 Jupiter bristles, betraying her protective instincts toward the lycantant.  “Yeah,” she says tightly, “I know what that means.”

Peggy nods.  “An Imprint is different.  They are far more than just a splice.  They are incredibly rare.  Bespoke breeders can spend millennia trying to perfect the process, only to end up with a mere handful of viable Imprints.”

“Uh huh,” Jupiter says, crossing her arms over her chest, looking unimpressed.  “So what?”

Peggy gives her a withering look.  “Imprints are devotion made flesh.”

Jupiter winces, like her head hurts.

“Imprints are, on a physiological and psychological level, absolutely bound to their target,” Peggy explains.  “It isn’t loyalty.  It isn’t attraction.  Every bit of Steve, both cell and spirit, is irrevocably devoted to me.  My well being is more vital to him than air.  He would, quite literally, do anything to protect me.  His allegiance is unquestioning, his fealty absolute.”

Jupiter shrugs.  “You couldn’t make friends, so your mommy bought you one?”

The growl raises the hairs on the back of Peggy’s neck and she reaches back, quieting Steve, who just entered the room.  She smiles.  “It’s not her fault she’s ignorant,” Peggy says haughtily, “growing up out here in the wastes with the rest of Balem’s RegeneX farm.”

Jupiter looks ready to jump over the table.  Steve, predictably, situates himself between her and Peggy, not a threat so much as a wall, even if it is a rather sickly wall.

“Heel, Fido,” Jupiter snaps.

“I’m tigtant, not lycantant,” Steve replies evenly.

Jupiter shakes her head.  “What’s that mean?”

“It means he’s a cat, not a dog,” Caine says dryly, coming to stand at Jupiter’s side.  “But Imprint or not, he is still beneath you, Majesty.”

Jupiter’s jaw hardens, as if Caine’s statement is an ongoing point of contention.  She is so unlike Seraphi in that moment.  She shrugs.  “Cat, dog, whatever.  I don’t care.  But you two are on the next cargo ship out of here.”

 

***

 

“Don’t you dare defend her,” Jupiter snaps.  “She’s just like the rest of them.  She wants that damn vault so she can recode her toy, fix him so he can better serve her.”

Caine watches her pace back and forth.  He sighs.  “She’s not like the rest of them.  Actually.”

Jupiter gives him _the look_ , but he doesn’t back down.  

“Fine then,” she says petulantly.  “Explain to me how she’s different from every other piece of Abrasax trash floating through the ‘verse on a wave of entitlement and privilege, believing they can own other sentient beings.”

“For starters,” Caine says, “she came all the way here, to find you, to beg for the life of a splice.”

Jupiter narrows her eyes.  “I’m pretty sure that’s not what begging looks like.  Also, he’s her bodyguard.  She told me that he’s ‘devotion made flesh.’  He’s rare, valuable.  He’s an expensive accessory she doesn’t want to lose.”

Caine frowns.  “To borrow a colloquialism, he weighs a hundred pounds soaking wet.  His vision is terrible.  He can barely breathe.  Do you think he’s doing a lot of good as a bodyguard right now?”

Jupiter rolls her eyes.  “That’s why she wants the account.  So she can fix him.”

“It’s not a guarantee that a recode would transform him physically,” Caine says.  “It would restore his health.  Save his life.  Beyond that, I doubt she has any assurance it would have any physical impact.”

“I guess she’s willing to risk it.”

“Exactly.”

Jupiter frowns.  “What?”

Caine takes a deep breath.  “You’re absolutely right about Imprints.  They’re incredibly rare.  And exorbitantly expensive, even for an Abrasax.  He’s the first one I’ve ever even seen.”

“Like I said, an accessory.”

He shrugs.  

“Someone ... _commissioned_ him for her,” Jupiter snaps, frustrated.  “He was literally _made for her_.”

 Caine nods.  “Just as I was made for the Legion.”

 “I didn’t - “ Jupiter starts, and then falls silent.  “Caine, I didn’t mean - “

 “It’s okay,” he says.  He smiles at her, like he finds her adorable.  “It’s the way of the ‘verse, Jupiter.  You’re the only one who is shocked by it.  I know what I am.  I know where I came from.  And I know enough to guess at his story.”

 She doesn’t have the words to even begin to explain all the things about this scenario that make her skin crawl.  People (even wolf people, or cat people) don’t belong to other people.  She doesn’t feel like arguing with him about that.  She shakes her head.  “Back to my original point, I’m not saying I don’t agree with the fact that she wants to save his life.  I’m just saying it’s not noble.  She’s just trying to protect her asset.”

 Caine nods.  “He is that.  But he’s also far more than that.”

 Jupiter growls.  “An Imprint.  Whatever.”

 Caine looks at her for a long while, seeming to consider his words.  “He is absolutely bound to her.”

 Jupiter nods.

 “But that doesn’t explain why she would risk so much for him.”

 “Greed,” Jupiter says flatly.

 He shrugs.  “Perhaps.”  He sighs.  “Or maybe it’s love.”

 She stops and stares at Caine.  “No.”

 He nods.  “They share a bed.  I can smell it on them.”

 Jupiter makes a face.  “Ew.”

He laughs.  “Not sex.  At least not now.  But companionship.”  He shrugs.  “And it’s more than that.  Her heartbeat slows when he touches her.  Her eyes dilate.”

 Jupiter looks at him.  “Seriously?”

 He nods.  “She is under no obligation to return his affection.”  He pauses.  “And yet she does.”

 With a frown, Jupiter slumps onto the couch, knowing she’s lost this battle.  “Fine.  I’ll help her.”  She glares at Caine.  “She’s still rude.”

 He shrugs in concession.  “Saying an Abrasax is rude is like saying water is wet.”  He pauses, his lips quirking up.  “Present company excluded, of course.”

 “Of course,” she says sourly.

**Author's Note:**

> I **KNOW** Steve is so clearly a giant golden retriever. But they're not scary, so I made him a tiger. Whatever. It's _crack_ fic.


End file.
